Wahba W Wahba, MD

It would suck to be told you were going to die but I think it would be easier to take from a doctor named Wahba Wahba.

Grass Root Nutes

Is there any way to extricate one’s self from this endless cycle of soul plunder?.. Crackling synaptic static is leaving me no choice for peace, and I’m not content to wait for an onset of physical slumber.  At least not a number or three – for none have brought more together without grim clay than all told before a last resort gold stain (it’s an electronic brain[mem] – is that emblematical of our creation being a reflection? Are we as well?).   Can we just pinch space and skip this time?.. If the donut is dense enough — large enough — relatively still, I will.

Some place beyond the shadow of like-minded periphery resides a map to theirs…  I’m not invited in the same vain, but accept full grace for knowing what’s given.

PAJAMATWEET777 = dt[1 – (v/c)²]^1/2

Maybe it’s in.

Loan Shart

Andrew Zimmer

Couldn’t make himself thinner

Serv’n a plate of scab meat stew.

He could eat it

And by Joe he would bleed it

If it weren’t for Caroline’s rue.

Who are we kidding?

There exists nothing that man won’t consume…  Leave room.

He left again without regret

And graduated to food poltroon.

Catch

You start a business in order to make money but you’re not making money yet from the business you started so you could make money. This presents a problem since you need money in order to start the business with which you hope to make money. So you need money from a source other than the business you are starting so you can make money in order to start the business so you can make money. Once you have started the business with which you hope to make money, than not having the money to start the business so you can make money is not that big of an issue since you are, in fact, making money. However, in order to get to a point where the business you started so you can make money is at a place where you can make money, you first need money not related to the business you started so you can make money so that the business can be started so it can make money. And therein lies my question:

What exactly make kosher salt “kosher”?

Gaylord

It’s been a busy year… I left my old company (employed there for almost 14 years) in December of 2007, became an owner/investor in a new aerial photographic equipment manufacturing company and became an employee/investor of a firm that acquires and images aerial photographs… Between raising a family, inventing and forging new avenues of business, there hasn’t been much time for blogging.

Oh, did I mention that during this process I moved into a new house and my wife and I had our third child?.. He’s a boy and is quit a handfull.

So, more aquitardage will be on it’s way… Mabe after I figue out why a resort hotel the size of the Gaylord Texan cannot provide more than two chairs outside of an expo it is hosting?

Klondike Slim-Jim

Might as well have faith like a child…  In reference to the Almighty, our understanding is no greater.

Post

Among a veritable multitude of useful informational nuggets, in Physics we learn of many mechanical advantages… My favorite is the fulcrum. In some form or another the adjusted application of work (including all vacillating combinations of force over distance [potential and kinetic] and energy [a form of work usually representing heat, electrical or some other atomic/subatomic particle transition] in a mechanically manifested sense utilizes some type of fulcrum in the process.

Ultimately, for fulcrums to work (no pun intended… although I do believe most people do intend their puns), matter has to “stay together” (at least in the mechanism [even in a gravitational sense]).

Aside from plunging into an investigation of the substance of matter, the beauty of fulcrums is their ability to allow one to invent, maximize outcomes, realize dreams and make new realities. Technology in all its forms is an incidental ongoing product and contributor of such… Mankind’s history is rife with it.

|People| and/or |situations| = fulcrum?… The world being replete with emblematic representations of wrought material bound by some unseen (but, irrefutably evident) established framework of physical laws, such a wonderful “mechanism” appears to transcend the physical (at least in my mind) into interpersonal relationships inclusive of associated social situations. You and I have seen, benefited from and/or suffered as a result of it many times – people of great and small alike finding the “fulcrum” and leveraging efforts; maximizing outcomes.

… A “life fulcrum.” Now that’s what’s needed…

A remote?.. No…

A megaphone?.. Maybe to inform those in a certain developed European country that deodorant is cheap and is quite effective at sparing others from inhaling bodily vapors causing the core of ones soul to vomit… Nah…

A thing?.. Possibly for a time, but fulfillment would wane…

A loved one?.. Is there love in doing so?..

A willing Subject?.. Hmmmm….

A tree?

Bargain Basement

IP me this…

Card mail. SolarPropulsion. Broadband steal.

Bye SWB. Bye land line… NEW VoIP!!!

Lost number. New number. Income real.

Cheap deal. Crappy reception… Bankruptcy???

Now void. Vonage rape.

Trusty Cell.

Tape.

Friend’s Song

Crystalline in feel… but existing, no growing in an ever-expanding scape like garden world, swallowing galaxies into eternity.  They are like organic structures having sub-plot struts, building vortex energy into novels erecting connecting towers of intimacy.  As they play, they live.  The paradise exists…  Even in my mind, in part.  A place at least where magic still gives.

Giv’n It That

My _____ printer that is… Swimming pools…  Movie stars…

Bumbershoot

You may think you are protected from the inclement weather….but those aren’t raindrops.

I Am Jack’s Seething Regret

Have you ever felt like you don’t belong? Like you were alone on this great blue, floating marble? Have you ever asked yourself: “Why don’t I get an ice cream”?

Ever stop to wonder why we were made with this desire to be paired with another mammal? Did you ever think that maybe we are all off course? Have you wondered what it all meant? Have you ever questioned the actual existence of everyday items like cheese? Have you ever felt like lawn mowers are evil destroyers of the earth’s natural covering?

I know I haven’t….weirdo.

Combustion Junction

Elevators are great… Seriously. The next time you make a mad dash for an already packed elevator to travel 30-some-odd stories in order to fulfill some subconscious need for expediency, stop and breath.
Once on that “rocketing” sardine can to cubicle paradise, the following knowledge might rightfully fill your heart with dread:

The warmth and humidity your breathing…. That’s not water baby. That’s sweat, breath and SBDs… A veritable gas soup of evaporated body fluids for your respiration pleasure.

I’m Thinking SBDs ™

Every aquitard has a semi-competent clone

I’ve been there and here as well… Although mine is no more.

Being a copy of a copy, the little clone (CL) found the aluminum tub so carefully prepared. Glistening with nitric at maximum molarity, the cauldron pool called to CL.

A reflection not found and a less than erudite (feel the improper application of a descriptive adjective) representative score of 78 lead CL to leap.

Reminiscent of the WW of the W to Dorothy’s bucket or a “Raider’s” semi-liquid screaming German, CL embraced fate… Clone no more.

Clone… Gnome… Liquid and foam… Aluminum drain’s new home.

Ancient Body Odor (and other things left to us by our 4 bears)

It appears to me when watching movies or reading books (assuming I can read) that are period pieces, I have always been perplexed by something that I find very troubling. Take for instance the family-friendly blockbuster 300. At the beginning of the film, the movie, the cinematic happening…there is an extended and slightly graphic s.e.x. scene in which King Lionel Richie and his queen (Latifah, I believe) go at it like two dolphins caught in a tuna net. While some might find this arousing, I found it disturbing (right after it was arousing). The only thought that crosses my mind in these baby-making scenes in period films and books is this: These people have not bathed properly in their entire lives, they have no real protection against body odor and other forms of human stank, and they have never brushed their teeth with goodness of Colgate.

Think about it next time you watch or read (if you are able) one of these boning sessions. Think about the smell. Think about our environment. The point is: you’re a racist.

Jessi

A princess in our Father’s kingdom; a noble woman, filled with God-given wisdom and charity.

Stately sincerity, you are an embodiment of thoughtfulness.

Sparking the imagination and introducing cheer into those blessed enough to know you… A fiery spirit desiring to love and learn; a force of balance that calms and eases.

A masterful work of art.

I could never fully appreciate you without recognizing Who made you… Nor could I as deeply appreciate Him without knowing, journeying with and loving you.

You are the part of me I breathe – the part I dream – the best part of who I am.

 

 

I love you with every avenue of thought and strength given me by our Father. There exists no color that could paint, no word that could express, no medium that could transmit the enormity of what I feel for you… Love is the only all-encompassing word that comes close.

 

You

Maddy

Smooky’s best friend you are. A dancing imp possessed by an endless parade of creation’s animals; alive in a land of magic and sound.

Eyes of sun-drenched oceans and tropical reefs; no color did He leave without. Dramatic and full, your expressions.

Songs to us you dream into our lives of tedium. God’s touch, a reminder.

Privileged to endure tempers in throw. Your best overshadows the foul.

Daily soft proclamations of love you rarely forget. Your hand traversing stubble, the face that gives you text.

8lb. 1.3oz.
Frumpled
Lift up
Boo Boo
“Brug’s Rife”
“The voices! The voices!”
Oh, “brudder”
Maddy’s Cast
“It’s a baby!”
“Keekoo”
This is my friend “Mommy”
Barn Cat
Hell Cat
“Maddy feel better”
…and on…

I love you… My song – Light’s voice – our love.

Gabby

God’s pure messenger you are. A drop of sunshine to all that know you; a vision of beauty to all that are only privileged enough to glimpse.

Eyes that hold entire forests of golden browns and foliage green. Sculpted sun-kissed olive skin of cream cheese.

Letters and art overflow your heart. You have missed not a one for love.

From your then towering trailer to meandering toddler weekend advances into pecan shaded Hills
to pack-mule rides for glory days of preschool.

Inquiries of Great Grandpa’s new home and God’s Son’s ultimate role.

6lb. 10.5oz.
Cone Biscuit
BP Baby
Piñata
Seeeu
Foo Foo
Doll Basket Slumber
“Dorachy” the dinosaur
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
“My hair! The wind blow my hair!”
This is for “grils”
Oklahoma “Boy”
“Go! Go!”
“Uncuter”
“Crawpish” got soul
Gabby’s snowman
“Gymachsticks”
“Giggles”
…and on…

I love you… My first – God’s proof – our love.

Cold

Reverb of soul
parallel bowl
musing of night laden sweat.

Keep my heart apart…. Distort space/time’s tart… What day are you knowing?
Nanite mind’s gown
boulder rounds down
apart… Not without sound.

Unbound.

I’m Thinking Herpes ™

Late night hunger pains
Take the reigns
I’m not insane
I’m just itchy

Ten-gallon hat
Holding a vat
Of something that went splat
That woman was witchy

Neon signs
Of a personality most boderline
Tonight I dine
On what I’ve been wrought

Slow burn
Brings about a turn
A lesson I have learned
Feeling hot, hot, hot

Barley A Word

< < < “Shiner on tap” > > >

May one accept the essence of gallant brewing with the full appreciation of a newborn in the throws of a lactation consumption event… I know I feel reborn.

Love Enough

Under an envelope of air and night I can see thousands – millions of winking reminders…  It could be the absence of foil on my head leading me to believe the deeper meaning of what I can see, but late night melancholy can be an avenue to epiphany as well.  So, nothing so profound as realizing and coming to a full conclusion of life’s mysteries, but accepting life as a gift…  That’s the thing. I think.

Gifted or regifted (man, I would hate to be regifted – I’ll ask the Dalai)…

Pointless, really.  If life isn’t a gift, I mean…   You would think the capacity of beings expressing “appreciation” (recognizing beauty in the things that exist) alone would guide one in that direction.  But, what about love?   Being well beyond any calculable orders of magnitude greater than “appreciation,” it has no universal meaning without a basic acceptance of life being a gift.

Of course many people have what they (or any reasonable human being [not so easy to find at times]) would consider to be a horrible life…  But I’m trying to get at life itself, aside from incidental experiences.  Could the privilege of existence alone be considered a gift?  I mean at least if one considers it so, then doesn’t it free one to appreciate – give – love with reckless abandon?..  No strings attached?.. Isn’t that what love should be?

I’m convinced it is…  I’m convinced He is.

Compote

Biological processes being bound by time, is one’s desire to “know” significant enough to even tepidly reveal the core truth (prime irrational origin – ethereal enormity – immaterial material – glorified unified mobius torus action – sacrificial passion), of why?

Paper Pony Bologna

Curses…

Origami purses…

Now there can be no conceivable reason to allow fashion to stoop so low.

Are they better than denim?..

Only Caroline would know.

Ungreatful Cod

Spur in my heal,
skin I would peal.
Glock to frown me.

Related I am
to genetic bedlam.
Could be a towny.

Again to breed,
with coarse stout steed.
No end for golden.

We cross again
to buckshot blend.
dream into flood day cloud.

Band-Aids For The Soul Part Duex: Bands Harder

These bands will assault your eardrums like a drunk quarterback on prom night.

Rehab 4 Bigots

CuddlePimp

Bootleg Scroll

Celebratory Chicken

Crouching Liger, Painted Wagon

The Fashion Of The Tripe

Do You See What I Text?

Do you see what I text?

I don’t until it bleeds into my mind with wrought colors of passionate sensation. Like an electrical storm of cascading emotion, they grip me — take me — break me…

I’m left with no avenue, except one: My precious aquitard.

One Way Ticket To Rides

That would be nice
As rice
With mice
Aside a wire splice
Very concise
Not once, but thrice
With sugar and spice
On a bridge of sighs
On a pizza slice
And a bad vice
Rolling all the dice
Made to entice
I know a man named Brice
And Heidi Flice
That would make my names twice
For the same price
Eating lice
Stop harshing all my highs
With things I deny?
What about flies?
And a gaggle of spies
In vanilla skies
Eating all my pies
With no alibies
Wearing polyester ties
I don’t know why she tries
It must be the books I buys
or the potatoes I fries
I can hypnotize
No, it must be my guise
or the way I analyze
Or, whom I fraternize
Have you seen the efluvial greatness of the things that have been materialized?
Errupting from noon-day rickets in blender folded ocean forests of deep frosted rainbows to raterize.

Libertarian Librarian

Pot should be legal
So should toast on a beagle
Uncle Sam's pet eagle
And the home of the grave

Gas pipe, glass pipe
I often cam't tipe
I won't eat tripe
Hurley's friend was Dave

Majesty of purple mountains
Hugh Jackman stars in The Fountain
Cyphering's the same as counting
Double-not spy

Take your position
The government listen
Dallas will play the Pistons
Did Desmond die?

The Muse (or Irony’s Bitch)

Do you think prose perceives me as a metaphor to reality or a rejection of negative desire?
Or an avenue to an extended vomit session with close friends?

Shitty Blues

A spoon full of slizzle, helps the melancholy flow brown

Smooky’s Friend’s Daddy

Little men find ways to breedflow stop
Old play drink in sweat laden skoff
Grackle shade in my own dark cain
Sweet to the paste of green Harold Swaim
Sight scold now all's left on last day
Fright's last break from God's firey grave
For whome?

A Love Song

Carob
Snub
Bub
Alerick Rub
On a Bagel
In my navel
I like Clark Gable
Mercury Sable
Dark
Clark
Tony Stark
Worse than my bark
Faint
Edible paint
The taint
I’ve got a new complaint
Night
Street fight
My pants are tight
Jimmy Walker was dynomite
Steampunk
Majestic funk
Like an elephant trunk
My name is Tandy

Sweet, Sweet

How can one reconcile frosted crabs when globular taints swim without carob?

Essence of Arithmia

Platinum grill, how did you mill
The debt of your owner?
Did you dine on fine rhine
With a small engine mower?
For the sake of Jay Blake
Please resign to warn her.
For she is my grind in Underverse swine;
No grace can mold her.

Dance Dance Resolution

If I had a lightening rod the size of a thimble, could I get very small lightening bolts to dance for my pet fleas?

Orange Banana

Orange Banana…

Are we talking about a banana that is orange colored? Or are we talking about a banana that tastes like an orange or an orange that tastes like a banana? Theoretically, we could even be talking about an orange that is yellow, as a banana is wont to be. We could be talking about lots of things…but we’re not talking, are we?

Whatever happened to us?

Band-Aids For The Soul

This is a collection of artists – nay musical geniuses – that will forever shake the very foundation of your meager existence. Once you listen you will never be the same. Much like the first time you take an amazing dump fall in love.

Placebo Rickshaw

Hellbent On Cheese

Upper Lip Shrine

GERD Smoothie

Noah’s Bad Weasel

Dopamine Dahli

East

Depression has a beautiful way of bleeding out one’s satisfaction with mere existence.  Nothing seems “right.”  Nothing appears to have purpose… Ah, purpose.

Purpose, purpose, purpose…

If there exists no true purpose, then one exists without reason…  No reason, no why…  No why…  Hmmmm.

If one knows why (or more appropriately, Who), then one is not forced to live on vaporous “happy” situations for one’s well being.  The joy of knowing is enough–is more–is all.

Can one accept being wrought by the hand of a mighty Creator?

I can…  I need to.

Can one accept the love of such a master craftsman;  A God that passionately knitted one into existence, all the while burning with anticipation to give one everything one could righteously desire?

I want to accept His love, but I’m not right… I’m wrong.  I live wrong.  I think wrong.  I desire wrong things.  I’m selfish and despicable.  Why would I want what I don’t deserve?

Can one accept the determination of a Father;  A Creator that took off one’s shoes, lived in them, showed one how to walk in them, was torn for doing so and ripped one from the clutches of one’s own self-inflicted doom.

How can I not reach for Him?  I am not whole without Him.  I am in awe of His majesty, His power, His authority, His shear being overshadowing me.  I’m left with nothing to offer, to barter, to argue, to keep.  I can only give back to Him the life he purchased with His own…  Jesus.  I am not my own.  I have been bought for a price.  Your life for mine, for you.  YES!  Thank you!!  Thank you for creating me in your likeness, living in my likeness and destroying all that keeps me from my eternal home with you.

Oh, my purpose…  To know Him as I’m fully known and to tell the world that there is no name under heaven by which we must be saved other than Jesus Christ.

Jawlines

Oh yeah! Finding myself in the throws of an electric shaving event, pain has a masterful foothold. How can my electric shaver cut me like a terrorist with Parkinson’s and not completely remove the sparsest of beards?.. I’m frequently left mutilated and smattered with stray hairs.

OK, I’ll use a “safety” razor… As long as my wife hasn’t left residual leg hair and soap scum (it’s quite endearing ;-).

Noon Day-Night

A full revolution…  Much less for one to bring out of “punk-ass bitchdom.”  Not for the next few anyway.

An Ode To The Vice President

Oh, silver-haired goddess of the gun
Did you have fun?
A hole in one
What an incredible journey

A second-rate heart
An old man darts
The shotgun signifies the start
For the race to the gurney

An honest mistake
Pineapple upside-down cake
Dave Chappelle was in Half Baked
So was Jim Breuer

You magnificent sharpshooter
Ok Computer
I like wings at Hooters
Roger Ebert’s a reviewer

So hail to the vice chief
I mean you no grief
Whatever happened to Comic Relief?
And what’s for dinner?

Take this all in stride
Pilgrim’s Pride
From every mountainside
B.F. Skinner

Why Philosophy Students Suck

If you want to experience the inner circle of hell without leaving the comfort of your ass-imprinted pleather chair then I suggest you peruse the writings of Liquid Gnome. You will be sorry glad you did.

Inordinate

Does it matter? Are intentions more important than action?  Are the results of good actions changed or are they dependent upon associated intentions?  And by “good” I mean more than actions that are completely relative to those to whom God has been relegated to a personal ideology.  For if reality is dependent upon perception, then “truth is reality as God perceives it” (R.C. Sproul).  If one accepts God’s consistency, His truth and goodness are comprised of the same ingredient.

So again, does it matter?.. It only truly matters to those with an interest in receiving or attributing personal credit.  If one accepts God as the sole source of being good, then all the glory for such actions goes to Him (regardless of intention).  Intention is left to one’s own well being.

Grieving Splendor

Not necessarily anything having to do with a severe lack of intrinsic universal knowledge, but may I just loiter among those only escaping the societal accepted arena of mediocrity? I’m most at home with those that lack self-importance anyway… Please Lord, may we never mistake a continuing euphoria over one’s own intermittent luck into wit as profundity…

You know This I Know

Considering the mathematics involved and visual interpretations extrapolated, why is the new theory for unification of all of the natural forces called “String Theory?” Shouldn’t it be “Ring Theory?…” Or “Sphere Theory?” These “strings” are not void of dimension nor limited to one, so why strings? Is it for the public? Do “strings” connote the ultimate in simplicity save a spec?… Time for an eleventh dimension cold-one… On me for all time in all time.

Why Not Milk?

It appears to me that milk is God’s perfect beverage. It helps build strong bones with it’s amazing calcium levels. It produces such wonderful phlegm with it’s milky thickness. It’s not clear like that pansy-ass water. No, milk is white and clean and shiny. Like a new iPod. Not the black ones. Not that there is anything wrong with being black. It’s just that a black iPod would not really resemble milk. Perhaps chocolate milk.

So next time you are dying of thirst after that 5K bike ride (yes, you in the blue tights and the rearview mirror on your head) don’t go for the Gatorade. Say “no” to that sorry excuse for a beverage known as water. Instead, go for the white. Make your’s milk.

Cellular Legacy

Can I not suffer through another “dp dp dp dp dp ererererererere dp dp dp dp ererererer dp dp” coming from the nearest speaker to my cell? PLEASE!!!… Oh yea, no explanations of fluctuating electromagnetic waves causing this effect! I don’t give a rats… I know what the foil around my head has indicated and the beans are guilty!

Special Men

Did you see that “aquitard?” He has an alias… “Liquid Gnome” it is… Worthy he is not.

Your Night

Please unscramble me this… Schools for serrated nuns give no plight to melodramatic effluvium.

Untidy Frizzle

Has all become an unending parade of corroded souls bringing me sugar?

Welcome To Aquitard

“What is Aquitard?” A question this deep can only be answered by another question: “What is life?” For Aquitard resides in the very essence, the very bosom, of life as we know it. Nature, technology, pharmacology, pathology, homogeneity, homelessness, restlessness, Eliot Ness.

Once we look past the lines on the paper we see the truth for what it is: alienation, starvation, empty speeches, peaches. When you think outside the box you can reach the stars. Will you visit me please if I open my door…in cars?

So, in summation, I believe that we can indeed find the meaning of life and by doing so discover the secrets of this nirvana known as Aquitard. Have a wonderful existence and don’t forget to tip your waiter.